


Good Boy

by kinkmerighthererightnow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: All sorts of kinks, Alpha John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BDSM, But it's cool Sherlock likes it, Dark John Watson, M/M, Omega Sherlock, Omegaverse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Teen Sherlock, They're going to be a hot mess, because I'm too literearily spent right now, sm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7705810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkmerighthererightnow/pseuds/kinkmerighthererightnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds Sherlock ODed. He's a pretty boy, who catches the Alpha's interest immediately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should stop starting new fics in such rapid succession, but I've been waiting for my mental prompt on how to start this fic for a couple weeks now and it just came to me and since I'm desperate for approval, I can't keep a chapter to myself for any length of time.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy the (short) prologue!

“What are you doing out here?”  
  
Sherlock jerked up at the voice addressing him. Coming up with a fever, he squinted, averting his eyes from the light flooding in from the street and behind the man. “Go away, leave me alone.” he commanded listlessly.  
  
The other man knelt down beside him instead, grabbing his chin, tilting his face to himself, touching his forehead to check his temperature. “Pretty outspoken for an Omega. Bit rude, don't you think, to speak to an Alpha like that? Many would get you arrested for that.. or teach you a little respect..” his eyelids were pulled apart and Sherlock was looking right back into a pair of dark blue eyes, authoritative, but not unkind.  
  
He shook his head free of the grip. “I don't care who or what you are.”  
  
“Where did you get the money to buy the drugs?” the Alpha asked, wiping his hand on a handkerchief.  
  
His smell was really nice. “None of your business.”  
  
He heard the Alpha click his tongue, but he didn't sound pissed when he spoke next. “I am a doctor. My flat's just around the corner. You come with me, I need to take a proper look at you.”  
  
Sherlock waved him away weakly. “No. Get lost.”  
  
There was a moment of hesitation. “Alright.” the man said and before Sherlock knew what was going on, he was being picked up and found himself cradled securely in a pair of strong arms.  
  
“Hey! Stop that, let me go!” he tried struggling, but, in his state, he knew he had no chance. He went still and looked the man dead in the eye. “I'll scream.”  
  
The Alpha didn't bat an eyelash at the dare. “People around here know me; they know I'm a doctor. One look at you and, no offence, but they won't question my actions.” Just like that, they were moving. Sherlock couldn't help but pout. He pointedly didn't spare the Alpha a look.  
  
True to his word, they stopped in front of a Victorian house about a minute later. The Alpha rang the doorbell as he couldn't reach his pockets. An elderly woman opened the door. “Oh, John, it's you! And who is this?” she chirped as she stepped out of the way, wiping her hands on her apron and closing the door behind them.  
  
“Just found him in the alley. Drugs, probably ODed. Cancel my 5 o'clock appointment.” the man was saying quickly, bustling past the woman and up a set of stairs.  
  
“I am your housekeeper, not your receptionist!” she called after him, unconvincingly.  
  
By the time Sherlock was put down on a leather sofa, he was feeling dizzy from all the movement. Presently, the Alpha brought a bowl with him when he joined them there. He applied a sphygmomanometer, taking Sherlock's blood pressure and dug out a thermometer, sticking it beneath Sherlock's tongue and pushing his mouth shut with one hand. He ran a number of other tests to confirm his suspicion. “What's your name?”  
  
“Fuck you.” Sherlock answered. He'd taken a good look at the doctor during his examination.  
  
  
The Alpha was unimpressed. “Alright, Fuck You. Where's your family? You got a number of Mr or Mrs You in your pocket? Got a phone?” Sherlock didn't reply. The Alpha licked his lips. “Look, I know you probably don't want your parents to know, but I have to get you to a hospital for a detox. Kid your age and shape, I'm lucky you're still alive.”  
  
“Yes, lucky you.” Sherlock replied snappily.  
  
“Listen-”  
  
“You are a trained military doctor, you were wounded in action, I noticed your limp on the way here, but you're keeping your exercising routine up. You miss the war. You're only practising because it pays well, you would much rather go back to the military, but they won't take a surgeon with a tremor and a limb, not even a skilled one like yourself.” Sherlock fired.  
  
The Alpha looked back at him blank-faced. “How.. do you know that?”  
  
“I told you, I noticed. I _deduced_.”  
  
The doctor nodded, although he clearly didn't fully understand. “John Watson.” he introduced himself. He looked Sherlock up and down. “How old are you? I'd say sixteen? seventeen?”  
  
“Seventeen in January.”  
  
“You're very intelligent for an Omega your age. Not even private education for Alphas can get you there. Impressive.” John remarked. “Why does a clever kid like you take to taking drugs?”  
  
Sherlock threw him an arrogant smirk. “Don't you know? The most intelligent tend to be the most unhappy.”  
  
“Because they see the world for what it is.” John agreed. “Mrs Hudson! We'll need some tea!” he shouted into the house, looking back at Sherlock. “And cancel my other appointments as well!”  
Sherlock eyed him suspiciously. “Well, if you're unhappy, something about your life must suck really bad. I'm guessing parents? Most young adults have beef with their parents.”  
  
“Oh, please. Don't give me _that_ talk.” Sherlock sulked.  
  
John smiled a little. “You're pretty. How about I make you an offer?” He waited for Sherlock to look at him, albeit still suspicious. “I take you out of your current life and you stay with me. You can have what you want, education, luxury. My only condition: You're mine. Completely.”  
  
“You mean you want me to be your slave.”  
  
“Slaves don't get paid, sugar.”  
Sherlock inspected the smirk on the Alpha's face. It would be a bad idea to agree, he knew; dangerous on a great many levels. It reflected in John's smile.  
“Make your decision. Now.” the doctor demanded firmly. A shudder ran through Sherlock's body.  
  
“Yes.” he agreed on the spot.  
  
John's eyes remained cold and hard. “Yes, what?”  
  
“Yes... sir.” the Omega breathed.  
  
“Good boy.” the blond growled back. “Now, give me your phone, I need to make arrangements.” he demanded further, holding his hand out expectantly.  
Sherlock handed it over without question, watching as John left the room with it. “The bathroom's to left down that hallway. You go take a shower and put your dirty clothes in the laundry hamper.” The order rang through the room for a couple more moments as John took another flight of stairs up, his phone call connecting.

 

 

John hadn't mentioned a change of clothes, so Sherlock sat there, back in the sitting room, on the sofa, naked, wrapped in nothing but a towel he'd found. He looked down his bony limbs. Long, and long past slender. There was always a slight shiver to his body and he hadn't been sure about whether it was the drugs or him being way underweight in a long time.  
He looked around the room. The floor boards and wallpaper looked as if they might still be originals. Most of the furniture was also rather vintage. He couldn't say he didn't like that touch. He certainly preferred it to the clinical boldness of the more modern furniture in his family home.  
He didn't have much more time to ponder his new surroundings, as heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs moments later. John re-entered the room, stopping when he saw Sherlock and smiling. “You're a bit light for my taste, but cutting out on the drugs should get you there.” he said, walking over to Sherlock, dropping his phone on the coffee table. “Rule number two: No drugs. You won't be craving them any more any way. Rule number one:” he continued, grabbing Sherlock's chin. John pupils were blown as he looked down on him, “You're my bitch now. When I call, you come – in whatever way I want you to. You're clever; you'll know _exactly_ what I want when I want it. Won't you?”  
  
John loomed over Sherlock. The Omega's breath hitched when the doctor touched him, shamelessly, between his thighs. He had him pinned against the sofa. “Yes, sir.”  
  
The Alpha grinned, leaned in and bit Sherlock's lower lip, pulling at it in a dental death grip. Not letting up on the intensity, he let Sherlock's lip slip out and slap back against his teeth, coaxing a gasp out of the Omega's throat. “Good boy.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dental death grip" is my new catchphrase. It's also the name of my imaginary band.
> 
> Well, this fic is actually sponsored by someone who contacted me over on tumblr (not sure I may out them publicly like this yet) and at first I was skeptical about whether or not I'd be able to get into this at all, but now I've got scenes playing out in my mind and, Lord, let me tell you, I'm hooked on this darkfic! (It's gonna get dark soon, just you wait. But also a bit fluffy. I can't write without love, sorry, but I just don't dig that. I don't read it, I don't write it. I hope that's okay..)
> 
> If you've got prompts for other fics or maybe fanart (which I'm equally crappy at, yes), drop them over on my tumblr (http://kinkmerighthererightnow.tumblr.com/) as an ask or a message. Also, if you've got criticism or anything else, throw it at me in the comments or also on tumblr!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm mainly just here for the kinky sex..  
> (Don't worry, that will get more exciting as well)

“Your room is upstairs, you can keep it however you want, no one is going to go up there anyway. I see patients at nearly all times of the day, so you will make sure to either keep to yourself or be nice to them, are we clear on that? Now, have a drink.” John shoved one of the mugs into Sherlock's hand before the boy could reply. The Omega eyed it warily, but took it. The housekeeper had brought the tea and John hadn't been in the room on his own since Sherlock's arrival. He didn't think the old lady would have drugged his tea and even if, the mugs looked identical – John couldn't be sure which one was poisoned. John took a sip from the other cup. With his free hand, he reached into Sherlock's curls and grabbed at them. He sat down on the sofa, beside Sherlock, tugging at his hair and caressing his scalp in turns. “I like your hair, now that it's washed. Kind of.. luscious.”   
There was a smirk playing the thin line of John's lips. It was kind of sweet, though his eyes made it look very predatory. “Compliments your skin very nicely. Your body's all pale, straight lines, it's a fine combination, looking up to find dark curls. Quite the elitist look. Wouldn't have guessed that could be my type.” the last sentence was merely a whisper in Sherlock's ear, which was immediately bit and trapped by a strong jaw. It hurt. Badly. The Alpha let go and dragged his tongue around Sherlock's ear. His breath was hot on the Omega's skin.  
John put his mug down on the coffee table and pushed him back into the cushions. Tea sloshed against the sides of Sherlock's mug, but the Omega didn't dare move to put it down. The Alpha moved between his legs, shoving them apart as much as he could in that confined space. The towel parted after a certain point, laying him out bare underneath John, who rubbed his denim-clothed crotch against his. The friction was hard and cruel and, surprisingly, satisfying. There was no doubt that John was merely rubbing his scent all over him – a very primal thing to do and likely not entirely intentional, but pleasant to the instinctual side of a person.   
While the Alpha was biting at his neck, Sherlock's head bobbed to the side, finding John holding himself up merely by his arms' strength. It made sense – the sofa wasn't very spacious and their positions didn't allow for John to balance himself any differently. It did give Sherlock a nice look at the Alpha's physique, though, and, as much as Sherlock loathed to admit it, it was the typical Omega's wet dream. He was just unnaturally strong; each muscle an exaggeration, ridiculously big and defined. He followed his arm's curvy line back to his torso and down his back. There, rhythmically moving with his rutting, were his buttocks, round and breathtakingly firm underneath his trousers.  
Sherlock's head fell back against the wall with a low moan.  
John chuckled and lifted his head to look at the Omega. “Do you like that? Do you enjoy being my bitch?” he growled, pressing his hips further forward. Sherlock could feel his massive cock rub against his abdomen and, looking down, observed the movement of John's pelvis. The friction made his eyes water as he came, nearly dry and in pain, a bit of tea sloshing over the brim of the cup and onto his hand. John opened his pants and reached for his prick, stroking it a few times and shooting his seed up to Sherlock's chin with a grunt. A white line painted Sherlock's chest with the after-shots. “Go, clean yourself up and then go upstairs.”

 

 

Sherlock did as he was told. He was still unsure what and how he'd gotten himself into, but he wasn't entirely unhappy with it. At least, this had been his own decision, even if it had been his dick rather than his brain that had decided. When he next came downstairs, his bed all done neatly with the linen the Alpha had laid out for him, it wasn't long before the doorbell rang. To his great disappointment, he could identify his brother's footsteps on the stairs.

“Thank you for finding my brother. I feel rather embarrassed to say that I could not keep track of him this time. Get your clothes, Mummy is waiting.”

 

“Ah, I don't think so. I asked you to come here to make arrangements, did I not.” John butted in, stepping between the two taller men.

 

“Yes, and I think you will remember that I declined, Dr Watson. My brother is to come home with me.” Mycroft declared, putting one of his 'pleasure not to do business with you' smiles on.  
  


John smiled back in kind. “He is home. I will take him off your hands.”  
  
“Sherlock is already promised to another Alpha. The contracts have been signed, the lady has paid up, his ceremony is _in two weeks, Sherlock_!” the older brother said, turning more to his brother the further he got. His anger was tangible.  
  
Which, in turn, made Sherlock resist him all the more. “I told you I don't want her. I will not be bonded to that woman. Dr Watson asked me to stay with him and I found his offer very appealing, so I chose to say yes to him.”  
  
“It is not your choice to make.”  
  
“It is now.”  
  
Mycroft regarded John for a moment. “What does he promise to give you that she cannot?”  
  
It was Sherlock's turn to smile unkindly. “First of all, a choice. Secondly, a cock. I don't like women, I have told you many times.”  
  
“She has all the equipment.” Mycroft replied, evading Sherlock's vulgarity.  
  
“And breasts. And wide hips and a _vagina_.”  
  
Mycroft sighed deeply. “Sherlock, you have been promised to that woman for many years-”  
  
“Yes, and I have been protesting this for just as long! Had any of you ever paid the slightest bit of attention to my _actual_ needs, you would have known that!”  
  
John interfered again at that point. He could see they were not getting anywhere like this. “Without wanting to disturb any of your familial.. quarrels, I can assure you that Sherlock will be safe, well taken care of and without a need if he stays with me. He will have all the freedom he needs.”  
  
“Freedom? No offence, Dr Watson, but you don't strike me as an Alpha to treat their Omega with an exceptional amount of love.”  
  
“I've known him for about an hour and a half, do you really expect me to fall in love with someone that quickly? I think him and I share that sentiment, by the way. However, he is very intelligent, I would be happy to pay for an extended education. I doubt you will find many Alphas to treat him quite as kindly, not to mention, I doubt you will find one that will actually love him before buying him.”  
  
“I cannot let you have him.”  
  
John's smile turned rather dangerous when he answered in a low voice, almost whispering. “Then you have a problem because he's mine and I'm not giving him back. Now leave my house. You can communicate with me via letters from now on. Name your price and I will pay it.”

 

Upon this, Mycroft huffed out an annoyed breath but left. John turned and went to fetch his laptop, Sherlock lingered a moment, drunk on the display of dominance. The Alpha he had been promised to was known for her qualities in the BDSM world, but she was weak at heart. They'd met once and he could read the sentiment on her face as she lay eyes on him.   
He looked at John in his red armchair. This was the harshness, the strength that he needed; craved. Mycroft wouldn't understand. He was fluff, if anything in his pants was working at all. He didn't understand the beauty of a real dom.   
“You will call me John.”  
  
  
Sherlock was just stirring his tea when Mrs Hudson opened the front door. He threw his teabag in the bin and turned to go upstairs. In the past week Sherlock had quickly learned that John preferred him not around when he was seeing patients, though mainly because he felt distracted whenever Sherlock was in his close proximity. He just turned the corner when John stuck out his foot making Sherlock trip and run right into John's patient, emptying half of his mug over the neat shirt collar. Sherlock straightened himself, looking back at the exasperated, and likely pained, Beta with a passive expression. He didn't much care. Only when he heard John stand up from his chair rather hastily, did a shiver run down his back.

“You must excuse my Omega, he is incredibly clumsy.” the Alpha said nearly sweetly apologetic. The moment he had finished his sentence, he turned Sherlock around by a grip of his collar and slapped him hard across the face. The Omega released a surprised gasp and looked back at John with an expression close to actual fear. “Now you go upstairs and wait there. I will have a word with you when I'm done here.” John said firmly, but kept his hand tight on Sherlock's collar.  
  
“Yes, John.” he obediently replied and only then was he let go off and quickly disappeared upstairs.  
  
Of course, John didn't come after his appointment with this client. Instead, he made Sherlock wait, sitting on his bed, until he'd seen his very last patient two hours later. Sherlock wasn't idle in that time. He'd learnt to prepare himself after the first time this had happened. As soon as he could hear the firm, uneven footsteps on the wooden stairs, he got excited. The last week, John had created 3 incidents to justify his “punishments”, each starting and ending differently, making it impossible for Sherlock to get bored. Once, he was even allowed to wait in John's own bedroom.  
He ruffled his hair up, knowing how his unruly curls drove the Alpha mad and faced the door, kneeling on his bed, back straight and head hanging between his shoulders a bit.  
When John entered, he was pleased. He knew, of course, that Sherlock hadn't really been sitting like this for two hours, but he always appreciated his efforts to spur on John's fantasies. The Alpha closed the door sharply, licking his lips. The top two buttons on Sherlock's shirt were nearly always open and John had a pleasure gaping at his exposed skin. Sherlock looked up at him from under his eyelashes, making him appear small and fragile. Mind you, he was fragile.   
John approached the bed and let his hand glide along Sherlock's cheek to the back of his neck, then forcefully pulled his head back by the shorter hair there. The pain made Sherlock's eyes water instinctively. “Are you even a tiny bit sorry you ruined my patients shirt? He was very upset and surprised by me having such an incapable Omega.”  
  
“No, I'm sorry for him. Have I disappointed you?” Sherlock replied evenly.   
  
John grinned. “Not a bit.” he answered, leaning down and kissing Sherlock softly at first, then cruelly. He bit the Omega's lip until he could taste his blood.   
  
“A skilled and sophisticated Alpha like yourself with a clumsy bitch like me? I understand why he was shocked. I hope my tea burned his chest hair away.” Sherlock breathed.  
  
John slapped him again. His cheek stung beautifully as it caught colour again. “You're such a nuisance. If the sex wasn't good, I'd have tossed you back out onto the street again.” the Alpha spat back, turning him around forcefully, pulling his arse up in the air while simultaneously pushing down hard on between his shoulder blades, sticking out on his bony back. Sherlock was glad he'd done all the stretching himself already.  
One-handed, John freed their necessary parts of their clothing, grabbed a bit of lube, pretended to prepare Sherlock for half a minute and then slammed his cock in to the hilt. A sigh, a quick breath and the Alpha was hammering into Sherlock, who could only keep his position just so by trying to push back with his hands grabbing at the bedsheets. His lower back hurt from the position and John seemed eager to carve a map of London into his back and arse with his fingernails.  
Like this, it never took John long to come. It was just the setup for a quick fuck. Sherlock didn't mind at all. Once he was spent, John pulled out and, while taking off the condom, buried his face in the Omega's rear, eating him out. John always made sure Sherlock could come in whatever way.  
As soon as he did, John carefully guided him to lay on his side, budging up against his back, kissing it, leaving more hickies on his skin. Sherlock enjoyed it, the marks made him feel owned and loved. “I want you to sleep in my bed tonight. You did good today.”  
  
His heart made a big leap at that and he whispered back. “Thank you.. John.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told "it" was /coming/ (ugh, stop with the innuendo immediately!)
> 
> I found it surprisingly hard to start this chapter off, but after a certain part, it practically wrote itself ;) So here's a, uh... taste of what's to come (Jesus Christ, I said stop it, my brain's out of control..)
> 
> Just go and enjoy it!

When Sherlock woke up, he could just hear John breathing in little bursts, smell his sweat. He sat up in the bed to stretch and look around.  
He immediately caught sight of the Alpha doing sit-ups on the floor. Sherlock crawled to the end of the bed to watch him more closely. “Mornin'” John said, not stopping in his workout. The Omega climbed off the bed and atop John, pushing his knees to the floor and sitting on his hips. He placed his hands to feel the Alpha's six-pack work and tried catching his mouth on every up.  
Eventually, John played along, pecking the Omega's lips until he just stopped to kiss him properly, deeply, only to shove him away and off himself a second later. “This is not how this works.” he explained, gracefully going over to doing press-ups. “You come when I call, not the other way around.” he said coldly and Sherlock, sitting, leaning back against the bed, watched silently, but with a longing as John showed off his fitness.  
  
The Omega looked down at his hands as he began to feel them stirring without his intend. “I want a fix..” he mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else. He felt the desperation travel from his hands to his mind. He'd been vastly underwhelmed with mental tasks lately and his brain was spinning out of control, thoughts washing in; thoughts he'd been trying so hard to shut out.  
  
“Yeah, not happening.” said John just as he finished his last stretches.  
  
As John started his way into the kitchen, Sherlock suddenly shot up. “When are you going to fuck me properly? You lured me in with a promise you knew I wouldn't reject, but now all I'm good for is quickies?” he asked spitefully.  
  
John remained calm. “You're not ready yet.” he replied, beginning to make their coffee as usual. He then turned around, throwing Sherlock a smile, but his expression was entirely even, muted. “You're not ready for the real deal.”  
  
Sherlock frowned and sulked into the living room. “Maybe I should let Mycroft bind me to that lesbian after all.” he spat pettily.  
  
John had followed him to the door. “All in due time, Sherlock. You're young, you have time to wait.”  
  
“Do you touch yourself?” Sherlock asked in an unexpected rush of bravery. He saw a chance to coax John and, by God, he would take it. “During your build-up for sex? Do you think of all the things you want to do to me and pleasure yourself?”  
  
“I know what you're trying to do.” John smiled to himself. He really liked Sherlock's attitude, despite what the boy might think.  
  
“Surely, if you have so much more you want to do, you must have urges. Do you masturbate in the shower?”  
  
“It's not working.” he replied in an amused, superior fashion. Sherlock reminded him of himself a little; feisty, never shy to speak his mind. Most of all, he was trying to be manipulative. What he didn't seem to realise was, that John had other plans. But he'd learn, John thought. Soon enough.  
  
The Omega himself, however, was less than pleased. In his impatience, his annoyance that his plan wasn't working, he got demanding. “How am I not what you expected, John?!”  
  
“You are everything I expected, Sherlock.” John said, a flirtatious, sexy tone to his voice. He was looking Sherlock up an down. Even from across the room could the Omega see how dilated John's pupils were, his eyes dark with lust. “Very precisely.” he nearly whispered.  
Then, like a snap, the Alpha's eyes were void of any such expression and he turned back to the kitchen with a smirk.

  
They drank coffee in silence, John relaxed in his armchair, Sherlock retreated to the couch in a pout. He tried, but he couldn't figure out just what it was that John wanted.  
  
  
They continued as before for weeks. Once or twice, John didn't even have the mercy to come to Sherlock and have him at all after making him wait upstairs. Those days, Sherlock couldn't even finish himself off; over-stimulated, too sensitive and disappointment replacing what sparks of lust he had left. On many evenings, John would ask him downstairs and made him watch telly with him. Most of it was boring, stupid, but Sherlock rarely paid attention to it. He usually just spent the time thinking. John didn't mind, he just wanted Sherlock downstairs.  
It wasn't until 3 months after Sherlock had moved in, that something finally changed between them. John had left his bedroom apparently feeling untypically happy one morning. He was tapping his foot as he made coffee, but before he ever took a sip, he turned on some music. Sherlock didn't recognise it; something you'd hear playing in a club – not really his genre. But John seemed to enjoy it, as he turned up the volume, walking over to where Sherlock was sitting in the leather armchair. He stretched out a hand towards the Omega. “Dance with me.”  
  
“What?” Sherlock nearly shouted back over the loud sounds. The neighbours surely wouldn't like it.  
  
“Come on,” John encouraged him with a smirk and a predatory look, “skinny boy like you, long legs, full of grace and rebellion? I bet you look fantastic when you're dancing.”  
  
Sherlock, a little stunned by John's words, took the Alpha's hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. However, John broke contact as soon as Sherlock was up and just started moving – this wasn't really music to partner for after all, was it? Sherlock watched John for a second, the way he used his whole body, carelessly swinging it around, a lot less stiff than Sherlock would have imagined him to dance. Then he put his own body into motion, rocking along to the music.  
The way John looked at him gave him more confidence and he forgot the odd circumstances and simply let it grip him, let his spirits free. The frustration of the past months, all of it, he let it guide his form around the living room.  
At some point, he and John made eye contact again and John began dancing at him, closing most of the distance between them. He didn't touch Sherlock, but the desire was very visible in his eyes. Sherlock briefly looked down to John's hips, finding the Alpha's cock stirring against his jeans and his pelvis moving very deliberately, very suggestively and very enticingly. He gasped a little in surprise and looked back up into John's face, which was covered in pure eroticism.  
A moment later, he he was pressed flat against the wall. John was rubbing against him, biting Sherlock's lips, his throat, his neck, his ear. This. This was what he'd been looking for in John. Savagery. An Alpha who could be both calm and composed, but also letting himself be driven entirely by instinct. Hurting him. Dominating him. Making him feel small.  
John wasn't just nibbling at his skin, he was _biting_ his earlobe off. And it hurt a little too much. He could feel, god, he could _hear_ the skin breaking under John's teeth.  
Panic gripped him. His hands lashed out at John, hitting his sides. “HONEYBEE!” he cried out his safe word. “HONEYBEE!”  
  
John released him instantly. Sherlock had his eyes clenched closed, tears running down his cheeks. He was reaching up a hand to feel the source of pain. When he opened his eyes, John was just licking the last traces of blood from his lips. He didn't care for Sherlock's scared look or the way he was holding his pulsating earlobe. All John gave him was a look of content and undisturbed want.  
“You're finally ready.” he breathed hotly.  
Sherlock stared back at him in question, but John stepped away, giving him a look that led Sherlock to believe it would be a very bad idea to leave this spot. The doctor returned with his kit. He made a quick, and unavoidably painful, process of treating the Omega's ear. Then he caressed his face, scratching lightly with his fingernails. He moved in for a kiss, stopped short before Sherlock's lips like a question.  
  
Sherlock answered. He didn't know what was going on, what John was doing, but now more than ever before, he trusted the man. He was rewarded with more nibbles. This time, however, it was more like usually, still viscous, but deliberate, not aiming to do more harm than pleasure. Sherlock felt John rub against his thigh again and the Alpha gasped and quickly set his hands to task on undressing the Omega. Sherlock reached out to do the same, but before his fingers could even touch John's shirt, the Alpha was grabbing his wrist, forcefully pinning them against the wall and resuming his motions. Sherlock was left breathless and naked when John shoved him to walk to the back of the flat, into his bedroom. Sherlock was just about to turn around, standing beside the bed, when a sharp pain stung his side. He bent over, clutching at the spot and looked up at John, holding a riding crop. Next thing he knew, a powerful kick knocked him over onto the bed. He watched John put the riding crop back down, almost hiding it behind the radiator. “This.. is what you want, isn't it?” he asked in a dangerous voice.”Turn around!”  
Sherlock followed the order and got to his hands and knees. John climbed onto the bed. “You want to feel little. Powerless.” A sharp smack of John's hand against his arse. Sherlock yelped in surprise. “Insignificant.” The word was whispered in his ear as John leaned his full weight on Sherlock's back.  
“Prepare yourself!” the Alpha demanded, getting off the bed again to undress. Sherlock did as he was told, but wasn't given much time as John was behind him again as soon as his clothes hit the floor. Without warning, he gripped Sherlock's hips and rammed himself inside. Sherlock coughed around the spit he'd accidentally breathed in, eyes stinging with renewed tears of pain. Behind him, John was just moaning luxuriously.  
Before Sherlock even had time to catch his breath again, John was pounding into him, pulling him back only to budge him forward with each thrust. It hurt, but it felt infinitely too good. Sherlock was coughing out moans as he watched the headboard coming closer and closer.  
Eventually, he was trying to push back by pressing his hands against the wall in front of him, but John was stronger and Sherlock's arms felt like jelly. His body was on fire and John might as well have ripped his flesh off his bones with his hands clawing to his hips and his mouth biting along his back. He could feel his Alpha cock force it's way in and out between the tight muscle ring, could feel it along his inner walls, hitting his prostate, making him scream. Half leaning against the wall now, Sherlock bit his own arm to muffle his noises. John pulled his head back by his hair. “Don't you dare keep those sounds to yourself!”  
The Omega felt his own dick touch the wooden headboard as it swung before him, his legs shoving apart, his body gliding up the wall as John continued to fuck him against it, grunting like an animal, until Sherlock was pressed against it. John's force was putting an increasing pressure on him as it trapped him between the hot, sweaty muscles of the Alpha's front and the cold, unmoving roughness of everything in front of him. The game of pain and pleasure had him close in in seconds, but John was holding his cock tight at the base, cutting of the final feeling he needed to tip over.  
  
“Please!” he begged, his voice shrill and strained. “Please, John! I need-... AH! PLEASE! PLEASE!”  
  
“You want to come, huh?” John huffed into his ear. “You want to spill against this wood, have it dribble down to the pillows? You want to clench around my cock? Make me shove it deep inside you so that my cum can fill you up, bloat your belly only to rush out as soon as I unplug myself from your arse?”  
  
“No..” Sherlock squealed back. “I _need_ to!” he corrected, sobbing now with the frustration of his orgasm being held back. John released his cock mid-cry and send him jerking in his cage, scream and gasp for air desperately. As his hole tightened around John, the Alpha jerked his hips further inside Sherlock, shooting his semen inside the Omega as he grunted out curses.  
Sherlock, spent in every sense, slumped and fell back against John heavily. The Alpha held him up until his orgasm wore down and he pulled out, laying them down on their sides, dragging a blanket over his body and a limp Sherlock. “You still want to bond to 'that lesbian'?” John asked smugly.  
  
“I've only just realised how big your cock is.” the Omega said monotonously, like in shock.  
  
John chuckled proudly. “That's what I've been teaching you: You're impatient, too eager. You always prepared yourself for hours on end, there was no resistance left whenever I got to you, next to no friction. I always just worked myself right to the edge before coming upstairs because I knew you weren't gonna satisfy me.” he said, pressing a kiss against Sherlock's shoulder. “You had to learn somehow.”  
John then moved Sherlock onto his back and his legs up and towards his face, knees bending, letting his feet rest on his shoulders and John moved between his legs. “Mh, minor tearing,” he diagnosed, “nothing too wild. You'll get used to it, become more flexible.”  
  
He turned Sherlock back on his side. The Omega winced with a bite of pain. “I love you.” he said after a pause and, feeling his heart swell as he thought it over, he found he meant it.  
  
John kissed his neck in response.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Sherlock's safe word is honeybee.  
> I told you there would be fluff.
> 
> Edit: I think you guys need to realise something, though. I am a very psychological person and much, much less a physical one. When you're talking "strength" and "dominance", I am guaranteed to write a /story/, a character with those characteristics, not a vessel with muscles but no soul. I will always try to keep within the realm of the possible for the characters that we know and love, since I believe that is what makes a good author (which I, by no means, am). If you expect me to present you a shell without a core, I am sorry to tell you, that you've got the wrong author, and quite possibly the wrong genre of fiction. I can write you a book like that, but I refuse to adapt characters from existing stories and manhandle them into a wet dream that their personalities wouldn't normally allow them to be.   
> I've been debating whether or not I wanted to share all of this with you or keep it to myself, but as I'm fearing the next wave of disappointment because John isn't a fuckboy and Sherlock not a brainless toy, I figured I would.  
> Now, fight me. I am the author of this story. The creator. The master over what happens.  
> You either accept that or I can just drop it.  
> I'm not your pet.  
> There's requests and then there's blatant arrogance, and I do not play well with the latter.


End file.
